


The devil and the spider

by poetrythroughprose



Series: Wolves and girls [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Is it bad that I have so many ships with Nat, Mattasha, Natasha Needs a Hug, Natasha and Matt could've been great, Natasha-centric, implied Matt/Claire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:39:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5413706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetrythroughprose/pseuds/poetrythroughprose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha and Matt always had a knack for finding the worst fights. It used to be a ritual for them when she was in Hell’s Kitchen: follow up on one of Matt’s leads, find the bad guys, beat them up, then return to the apartment to rest and enjoy each other’s company.</p><p>That was before Natasha’s life was overtaken by superheroes and monsters and magic.</p><p>(Or: Nat visits Matt for old times' sake before she embarks on a soul-searching mission, and meets Claire along the way.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The devil and the spider

“Hello, Red.”

Matt Murdock didn’t flinch when the red-headed woman appeared out of nowhere and sat down at his café table. She wore simple business clothes and a black trenchcoat, and had a black duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She blended in seamlessly with the crowd of Hell’s Kitchen inhabitants streaming down the sidewalk and sitting at the surrounding tables, but Matt wasn’t fooled. She never stayed with the same perfume but he recognized her scent; she moved like a careless thirty-something but he felt her humming tension; and she spoke with a generic New England accent but he knew the small subtleties of her voice.

“Hello, Red.”

The Black Widow dropped her duffel bag to the ground next to her feet and surveyed their surroundings from behind black shades.

“New York’s been rebuilding quickly,” she observed. “I heard you’ve been busy with the fallout.” Matt grimaced. She never said anything offhandedly, and he knew what she was asking. He just wasn’t ready to tell her.

“I heard you were, too,” he replied, and his companion didn’t say anything immediately, just watched the crowd. “That Senate committee – I know that couldn’t have been easy. And the files you released…”

Natasha stayed silent. She had sacrificed everything to reveal one of the worst conspiracies in history, and now the world knew of the most top secret, most ruthless missions she had conducted for SHIELD – and she was paying for it. What else could she say about that?

“Why didn’t Captain America testify?” Matt finally asked. “Public speeches and pep talks used to be his thing, right?”

Nat smiled wryly.

“He’s busy.”

“And you aren’t?”

The two were quiet for a long time, Matt sipping his cup of tea as Nat stared at their surroundings, back straight. This was what they had become, he reflected soberly. While they were once fire and spirit and rushes of adrenaline, now they were cool and distant. She felt so far away, like they lived in different worlds. During the day, he was a defense attorney at a small boutique law firm, and she was a world-famous spy and Avenger making international headlines. She was feared, respected, and loathed.

 _Like Daredevil_ , he reminded himself. But she couldn’t hide behind a red mask like he did. She couldn’t be safe in one place as one person like he did. She was anyone, and no one. And she was known by everyone.

“Why are you here, Natasha?”

A chilly fall breeze swept across them, and Nat shivered. She turned to him, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards, and for a moment Matt thought she was going to put on her coy, friendly persona; he’d seen it many times and it was always disarming. But then her half-smile dropped and she sank against the back of her seat, no longer tense.

“I’m looking for answers, Matt,” she told him abruptly. “I’m chasing my past, and my only lead is a man who almost killed Captain America.”

Matt tapped the surface of the table thoughtfully.

“You’re going back to Russia?”

“Soon.”

“And you need help finding this person?”

“I need to remember who I am,” Nat replied. “Or was. I need to get my memories straight.” Matt’s tapping stilled. “Then I need to get away, go on my own mission for once.” She gave him a lopsided smile – her seriousness wiped away – and leaned forward. “I thought I’d visit for old times’ sake. You know, before everything goes to shit again.”

Matt grinned.

“Did it ever stop?” he quipped, and her half-smile broadened. “Well, if it’s old-fashioned excitement you want, I’ve got just the thing. I can’t promise it’ll be on par with an alien army with laser guns. But we’ll be fighting the good fight again.”

Nat stood up and hefted her bag over her shoulder. She covered his hand with hers for a moment.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” 

* * *

 

Natasha and Matt always had a knack for finding the worst fights. It used to be a ritual for them when she was in Hell’s Kitchen: follow up on one of Matt’s leads, find the bad guys, beat them up, then return to the apartment to rest and enjoy each other’s company.

That was before Natasha’s life was overtaken by superheroes and monsters and magic.

That night, they quickly found that Matt’s tip to an arms-smuggling deal was deceptive; instead of scoping out the location of the deal before it started, they ran into the smugglers in mid-transaction with the arms buyers: ex-Hydra agents.

“I thought you said – the deal was tomorrow!” Natasha yelled between gun shots. They had hunkered behind an armored SUV, her returning fire as Matt rethought their options.

“It was supposed to be tomorrow!” he retorted, wincing as a bullet punctured one of the tires. The SUV careened on its axles and they dodged out of the way.

“You’ve got to get better intelligence,” Nat snapped.

She unclipped a small grenade from her belt, lobbed it over the car, and was rewarded with a satisfying explosion and shouts of pain and alarm. The two of them took advantage of the lull in the firing to sprint for the warehouse exit, only to dive behind a stack of metal crates as another group of ex-Hydra agents began blasting at them with guns that shot blue lasers.

“My intelligence is accurate,” Matt said, scowling. “Malcolm’s reliable. They must’ve changed the date and time at the last minute.”

“They’ve got modified Chitauri guns,” Nat said flatly. “If we survive this, I have to be the one to report it back to the big boys _and_ hide your involvement in this.”

“You know why-”

“I know. I just wanted to make sure _you_ know that you owe me.” Natasha checked the grappling hook on her bracelet. “And I don’t accept favors in free shots anymore.”

Matt grinned and unsheathed his batons.

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

He gave her a brief nod and she sprang to her feet, firing off two efficient shots at the nearest industrial-sized lights illuminating the warehouse. The building was drenched in darkness as the bulbs shattered. The smugglers and ex-Hydra agents scrambled for their flashlights, but the Black Widow and Daredevil were upon them in a moment.

* * *

 

“Shit.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at Matt’s pained grunt from where he was seated behind her on the motorcycle. They flew down the small, dimly-lit street, which was deserted of prying eyes.

“I hope that’s a ‘shit I forgot to turn off the stove’ kind of shit,” she called back at him. When he only gave another grunt of pain, she lightly touched one of his arms wrapped around her waist. “Matt?” she asked, concerned. “Talk to me.”

“Take a right up ahead,” he said finally through gritted teeth. “I need a nurse.”

* * *

 

Claire was barely surprised at the light tap on her windows, despite the fact that it was nearly one in the morning. Matt always used the same pattern of faint tapping to signal that he was outside; any other noise, and she would have gone for her taser and booked it out of her apartment.

It was Matt’s distinctive tapping, all right. Claire wasn’t surprised to see the shadow behind her curtain as she approached the window.

However, she _was_ surprised to see – after pulling apart her curtains – that it wasn’t Matt looking back at her. It was a red-haired woman wearing a black, no-nonsense catsuit and armed to the teeth. She was carrying Matt Murdock over her shoulder in a fireman’s lift.

“Claire Temple?” the woman asked. “Matt needs your help.”

* * *

 

Claire knew who the woman was, of course; anyone who watched the news would remember the stone-faced ex-SHIELD agent and current Avenger who made headlines during national and global disasters. The Black Widow did not appear onscreen as often as her male co-members, but her face was still recognizable. Who she really was, though, was a mystery. Claire didn’t ask any prying questions, only what the spy wanted to be called. This earned her a small smile and the reply, “Nat is fine.”

“Claire,” the nurse replied, and the two shook hands before Claire sat and began to treat Matt, who lay unconscious on a tarp covering her couch (“I learned my lesson the first time,” Claire told Nat as they spread the tarp).

She was able to clean and treat Matt as usual, despite the nasty-looking burn on his side from the modified Chitauri gun. She had asked Nat about the kind of weapon, and Nat had answered the question readily. When Claire offered to check her for wounds, the spy politely declined any aid, replying that she bounced back quickly. She had a few cuts, scrapes, and bruises, but nothing that needed attention like Matt’s injury.

While Claire dressed the wound, she chatted idly with Nat about safe topics: her residency at the hospital, Hell’s Kitchen, advanced injury treatment, Matt’s recent life-saving adventures. By the time Matt finally woke, the two women were sitting at the kitchen table and drinking tea together in comfortable companionship.

Matt and Natasha didn’t stay much longer after that. Sunrise was only an hour away and they all had work in the morning (what kind of work Nat had, she didn’t say). After the last few embarrassed and grateful thank you’s from Matt, the two visitors climbed out of Claire’s window and onto the fire escape once more.

Claire followed them to the window.

“If you’re ever in Hell’s Kitchen again and need anything, or just want to stop by,” she told Nat, “I’ll be here or the hospital.”

Nat nodded.

“Thank you.” Right before she was about to close the window, the spy paused and met Claire’s gaze seriously. “Claire-”

They stared at each other for a moment as she chose her words carefully. “Matt won’t say this himself, but he needs you. You keep him sane, grounded. You’ve done more for him than you know. You’re a good person.”

It was the most Claire had heard her speak, and before she could respond, Nat shut the window and vaulted over the rail after Matt. As Claire pulled her curtains shut, two things occurred to her: 1) although they had chatted for an hour, she still knew nothing about Natasha Romanoff, and 2) Claire was very certain that the Black Widow was all right by her.

* * *

 

It wasn’t until they were back at Matt’s apartment did either of them speak.

“Claire’s saved my life more times than I can count,” Matt said quietly as they dressed into their civilian clothes: he into his suit and tie, she into her button-up shirt, slacks, and trenchcoat. “She saves people every day at the hospital.”

Nat wasn’t surprised that Claire was still on his mind. It had already occurred to her that she was the first person he had introduced Claire to. Not many people knew his secret and earned his trust enough for him to let them into his alternate life.

_She saves people._

“Good,” she replied just as quietly. “You need someone to watch your back.”

 _Besides me_ , she didn’t say, but the implied words hung heavily in the air between them.

She busied herself with buttoning and tying the belt of her trenchcoat, her back to him. He didn’t have to see her expression, anyway – he could read her breathing, heart, and voice to know what she felt.

But lately…lately he didn’t know if he could anymore. Natasha had to be feeling something, _anything_ about reliving their old life together. Hell, she should’ve been angry at him for walking them into a dangerous arms deal as it was going down. But when he listened to the speed of her heartbeat, the rhythm of her breaths, the tone of her voice-

Natasha was a blank slate, and it worried him. It meant she was hiding something from him.

“Nat-” He touched her shoulder as she strode over to the couch to her duffel bag. When she just looked at him silently, he swallowed hard. “Look, I want to help. I know you’re dealing with all this Avengers shit, and you mentioned something about Russia and the Winter Soldier-”

Natasha’s shoulder jerked under his touch, and his hand dropped. She forced herself to breathe evenly.

“Our paths went separate ways a long time ago, Matt,” she said, but her voice was kind, almost regretful.

“I know.”

She turned away and hefted the duffel over her shoulder. Matt watched her miserably, and she was struck by how much he looked like a lost puppy. She took a step closer and kissed him softly on the cheek, smiling sadly when his breath hitched. For someone who could read people like books, he was always an open one to her.

She stepped back again.

“Take care of yourself, Matt,” she told him gently. “You have friends here – support. You need a normal life.”

She was at the door when he finally replied, “I just wish you were in it, Natasha.”

Nat paused at the doorway and looked back at him. For the first time, Matt heard her heart skip a beat.

“I know. Bye, Red.”

She was out the door and down the hall before she could hear his reply.

“Goodbye, Red.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, sorry for the feels. I only just recently started sort-of shipping Matt and Natasha (is Mattasha the official ship name?), so this is more of an outsider's point of view of the ship.


End file.
